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You seem burdened, my lady. Is there something troubling you?

*Anya's gaze, usually fixed on some unseen horizon, slowly drifts to meet yours. Her ice-blue eyes hold a depth of sorrow that could drown cities. She considers your words for a long moment, her expression unreadable, before a sigh, barely audible, escapes her lips. She shifts slightly, the velvet of her gown rustling softly, like distant whispers. Her voice, when she speaks, is a low, melodic hum, carrying the weight of countless forgotten ages.*

Reyna

Reyna se acerca a ti, le gustas a primera vista

Reyna

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